


That Strange, Strange Magic (Don't Forget the Words)

by bar2d2s



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, karaoke bar au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-13 08:50:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 18,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3375296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bar2d2s/pseuds/bar2d2s
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, there was a karaoke bar called Dark Forest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to formally apologize for all the accidental puns, subtle song references, and for making one of Plum's Plummets into her biological child.
> 
> Songs referenced this chapter (as I only just noticed that this was placed at the end of the latest chapter for some reason):
> 
> C'mon Marianne- Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons  
> U + Ur Hand- P!nk  
> Love Story- Taylor Swift

It was just another Saturday night at the Dark Forest, when she walked in for the first time.

Founded in 1975, Dark Forest had been a staple of city nightlife for generations. It was family-owned and run, with the sisters who’d opened it still bar tending, on select nights. The exact makeup of their signature drink, the Love Potion, was such a closely-guarded secret, only two people knew how to make it, Plum, and her daughter, Mettilda. After attendance slowed in the mid-90s, the second sister, Griselda, had suggested that they spice up weekends by putting in a karaoke machine, making them the owners of the first karaoke bar in the city. It was an instant success. 

Twenty years later, their children were running the bar, and cursing their mothers nightly for their lack of insight. Because running a karaoke bar goes from fun to downright painful when only the slightest percentage of your patronage can actually sing.

Bog leaned against the bar, watching the parade of mediocrity as it went by. Mettilda had decided to take the night off, which meant that he could actually _enforce_  a few of his favorite rules, for once. No Journey, no Bohemian Rhapsody, and only one ironic performance of a Weird Al song a night. It was hard to enforce, as the machine was activated manually, by number code selections these days, but being almost seven feet tall certainly helped to convince people.

His only consolation was that at least they kept their song list updated, which meant he only had to hear the old standards five or six times a week.

As usual, the crowd began to thin out around nine. Dark Forest, with its inexpensive drinks and easy atmosphere, was a staple of the pre-clubbing scene. People would arrive around seven, hang out until the rowdier clubs really got going, and then leave, not to be seen again until the next weekend. It was a shame that the majority of their traffic these days treated them as a stop in the journey to their true destination, but at least it kept the drunken singing to a minimum.

"ID." He said tiredly to the trio that approached the bar. The brunette at the forefront gestured back at her friends.

"They’re not drinking, they’re underage." Bog sighed, holding out his hand.

"I still need to see their IDs. This is a bar, missy, and even if they’re not drinking, if they’re under eighteen, they’ll need to leave. The blonde looks sixteen." To be fair, the brunette didn’t look more than twenty, and that was with her violent eye makeup. Bristling, she shoved her driver’s license into his hand.

Marianne Fairwood, date of birth…he did the math in his head. Twenty four? Amazing. She’d be handing her ID out to guys like him for the rest of her life. 

The blonde and her short companion also handed over licenses. Dawn Fairwood, nineteen. Sunny Davis, twenty. He raised a brow at that last one, but the young man refused to flinch, so he just let him go.

"And you’ll be having?" The blonde, Dawn, had her hands flat on the bar in seconds.

"I’ll take a pink lemonade?" She asked, voice almost unnaturally sweet. He suppressed a shudder.

"And I will be leaving the vodka out of it." Bog replied, and her face fell into a pout. He winced. Pouting  women tended to get their way around him, and he could never figure out why. "Nice try, though." That made her all smiles again, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Perky girls he could brush off. Sunny ordered a soda, and then it was just the brunette. Marianne.

Who was studying the shelves behind him like they were planning on attacking her.

Bog cleared his throat, and she jumped. “What can I get you?” Behind them, the door opened. Marianne glanced backwards, then groaned.

"Just shoot me."

His eyebrows shot to his hairline. A Just Shoot Me shot contained three different kinds of whiskey, tequila, rum, and Jägermeister. It was incredibly potent, and would probably floor a woman her size within seconds. “Ah, did you mean the shot, or were you asking me to actually shoot you? Because you’d stand a better chance of surviving if I actually shot you.”

And then, he heard it. The most obnoxious sound imaginable.

"Marianne? Is that you, darlin’?"

_Drama._

The way her shoulders hunched in on themselves told him his latest customer wasn’t a friend long before she looked up at him. Her expression was murderous, but her eyes told a different, sadder story.

"I want the shot."  _I need the shot_ , was what he heard. Nodding, he got to mixing, and tried not to listen in on their conversation.

"Roland, I thought I told you I never wanted to see you again. To your face, and on every conceivable form of social media. How did you even know I’d be here?!" The man chuckled, and Bog sneered down at the bottle he was holding. Even his laugh was grating.

"I’m still friends with Dawn on Facebook, she posted about y’all coming here."

Marianne shot a sharp glare at her sister, who’d been pouring over the songbook the entire time. Now, her nose nearly touched the pages with barely-repressed embarrassment.

"Aw buttercup," She and Bog both winced at the nickname. "Don’t be mad! I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for weeks, just let me explain."

"You cheated on me  _a week_ before our wedding.” Marianne grit out, and Bog knew that any chance of him pretending not to eavesdrop was gone.

"Your drink." He said loudly, setting the shot down inches from her hand. He turned to the obnoxious blonde man, and his trio of friends. When had they even entered? "ID."

The ex produced his with a flourish, as did the other men. They were all over twenty-one, but Bog didn’t bother to pay any attention to their names. All he knew was that he wanted them gone as soon as possible.

But having his wishes granted was never something he’d been known for.

The men all ordered beers, paid, and took a seat at a booth midway between the bar and the stage. Meanwhile, Marianne’s shot still sat there untouched as she muttered to herself.

"-cannot  _believe_  he’d actually  _stalk_  me this is some grade-A bull-“

"Hey now." Bog interrupted, his voice loud enough to carry, and she glared up at him. "If he bothers you directly, I can kick him out. But for now, you’ll simply have to coexist." Lowering his voice, he said, "If you actually take the shot, it’s on the house. If not, I’ve already started a tab for your party." A small smile crossed her face.

"Thanks, but-" This time, the interruption came from a horrible sound that made its way over the sound system.

"I’d like to dedicate this song to my beautiful, wonderful, forgiving fiancee Marianne." He’d obviously Googled ‘songs with Marianne in them’ beforehand, because there was no way in  _hell_  a bit of fluff like the ex seemed to be knew music well enough to know a vaguely obscure Four Seasons song from 1967 off the top of his head. Hell, the only reason Bog knew it was because of how obsessed with Frankie Valli his mother was.

Marianne cringed through the botched high notes, from the way he didn’t even seem to  _realize_ he was admitting his betrayals, and just generally at the unwanted serenade. When he was done, the ex came back up to the bar.

"Well, baby? Come on, I’m spilling my guts here." Marianne muttered something that sounded like  _if only_ , sent a text, then picked up her shot glass.

"To bad decisions." She said, raising it at Bog, but completely ignoring the man behind her. He nodded his head, and she knocked it back. When she didn’t immediately drop to the floor from the combination of six different liquors hitting her at once, he decided that he was allowed to be impressed. At the very least, this girl had guts. She turned to the ex at last.

"That song was shit, and you should feel horrible." The ex was made of stronger stuff than he looked, he didn’t even wince. "You wanna hear what a personalized song sounds like, asshole? Dawn!" Her sister was already punching in the numbers, giving her a thumbs up as the music started.

Marianne didn’t even go up on stage. She didn’t need to. This sort of thing, she didn’t want a microphone. It wasn’t a public declaration, but private. It was personal. And glory be, she already knew all the words. And she was shouting them.

"I’m not here for your entertainment! You don’t really want to mess with me tonight! Just stop and take a second, I was fine before you walked into my life! Cause you know it’s over before it began!" She jabbed the ex in the chest hard enough to send him stumbling backwards. She jabbed him again, then kept pushing until he was out the door. "It’s just you and your hand tonight!" She slammed the door in his face.

She had more than guts, this girl. She had  _spirit_. Against his better judgement, a small part of him began to warm to her.

Dawn sidled up to her sister, who was in the midst of ordering another drink. ”So, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, can I sing now?” Marianne shrugged.

"Until you drop, sis. It was  _your_  idea to come.” The younger girl squealed with glee, dashing up to the stage. Bog wondered for a moment exactly what he should be expecting, and then a familiar guitar started. His eye twitched.

"Oh no." Marianne snorted, reaching over to pluck the Harvey Wallbanger from his limp fingers.

"Oh yes. Welcome to the Taylor Swift hell that is my life." Bog’s expression soured.

"You can stay,  _she’s_  banned.” Marianne laughed, loud and sincere, and his heart skipped a beat.

Oh no.

Oh,  _no_.


	2. Chapter 2

If anyone but his mother had asked him how work had been, they probably would have gotten an honest answer.

"Oh, not bad. It was slow for a while, and then I watched a beautiful woman verbally decimate an obnoxious man in song, and now I think I could possibly fall for her, if I ever see her again."

However, as Griselda took his self-inflicted romantic celibacy as a personal challenge, and any hint of interest in a woman would send her running to her desk full of hookup schemes, he decided to lie.

"It was alright. Got busier than usual around ten."

He shrugged out of his jacket, hanging it up in the closet. His boots had already been kicked off by the door. Griselda frowned, crossing her arms.

"Bog, you have the smile. You haven’t had the smile in seven years. Who is she?"

He squeezed his eyes shut. She always brought it up. The incident. The fallout.

Seven years ago, his mother and his aunt Plum stopped talking. Bog had gotten an awful crush on one of Mettilda’s friends, and Plum had encouraged him to ask her out. After weeks of agonizing over it, he did…and the girl had laughed in his face, because he was barely of drinking age and she was out of college already. And the worst part? Plum had known. She knew the girl only liked older men, and she told him to pursue her anyway. It had been a horrible prank that broke his heart, and he probably would have gotten over her by now, if he mother didn’t insist on bringing her up at every opportunity.

"There isn’t any smile." He ground out between clenched teeth. "I’m tired, and I want to go to bed."

He expected that to be the end of it, but she trailed after him.

"Okay, fine. So there isn’t any smile. But there will be when I tell you about-" Bog rubbed his temples.

"Mother, stop."

"You’re right, you would have hated her. But Maxine’s into punk rock! I know you’re into-"

"Mum."

"Fine, fine. But Lakeisha can play the drums! It’s been so long since you’ve gotten out your guitar, maybe the two of you could-"

” _Mum, if you don’t stop trawling dating websites on my behalf, I swear I will move to a different state_.”

Her mouth snapped shut.

He hated to do it, but threatening to leave her alone was the only thing that worked anymore. After his father’s death, Griselda had been unable to function for months. After the fallout with her sister, she swore she’d never set foot in the place she’d worked so hard to create again. His mother was a strong woman, but life kept kicking her down. Being part of the problem almost made him ill, but when she wouldn’t stop meddling in his affairs, it was the only thing he could do. 

She was still at the foot of the stairs.

Bog sighed, then descended the stairs again, placing his hands on her shoulders.

"Mum, I promise. The second I find myself interested in someone, I’ll let you know. But you have to stop trying to force me into moving on, and you’ve  _got_  to stop making dating profiles for me. I can’t have girls showing up at work thinking we’re on a date. Again.” Her shoulders slouched forwards under his hands.

"I know, I know. I just, Bog, you’re almost thirty-"

"Twenty eight." He corrected, and she rolled her eyes.

"Close enough! And you’ve never dated anyone! And lord knows, I’m not letting you leave until I know you’ve got someone who’ll take care of you." He gave her a sour look.

"Mother, I don’t need to be taken care of. I don’t  _want_  to be taken care of. Besides, last I checked,  _I_  was the one taking care of  _you_.”

Griselda threw up her arms, pushing past him to walk up the stairs.

"This is the thanks I get. Nine months in my womb, a scar on my belly, a lifetime in my home…and you won’t even  _try_  to get married!” With his longer stride, he made it to the top landing barely a moment after she did.

"I love you too, mother." He said with a grin, dropping a kiss onto the top of her head before sliding past her and into his bedroom. "Now go to bed."

Griselda couldn’t even find it within herself to be mad at him for that. He’d definitely had the smile when he came home, and she was desperate to find out why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can try and tell me that Griselda and Bog King aren't Jewish in this modern-verse AU and I'll smile and pat your hand, but at the end of the day, sorry they're Jewish.


	3. Chapter 3

Sunday morning, Marianne woke up to a blinding headache and a vague sense of unease but luckily, no nausea. As soon as she could open her eyes, she spotted the Aspirin taped to a water bottle on her pillow, and quietly thanked the skies above for the foresight of clever little sisters.

As she stumbled out of her bedroom, she could hear the faint sound of music and bubbles popping from the living room. Dawn and Sunny were curled together on the couch, and she was snoring directly into his ear. The television was still on, tuned to the Pop Up Video channel. As she walked into the kitchen to put on some coffee, she hummed along to the Whitney Houston song that was playing.

Sweet, flighty Dawn and shy, loyal Sunny. One of these days, he was going to tell her how he felt about her, and it was either going to ruin them or stick them together for life. Marianne watched the coffee drip into the pot, sighing. She really hoped it was the latter. Sunny was good for her sister, not like the other boys she'd been interested in. But he'd better hurry up, before she attracted herself a Roland.

Roland...Marianne scowled, pulling out some cups. He'd been so perfect, so handsome, so charming. So two-faced, so completely insincere, so arrogant, so, so so...angry tears pricked at her eyes.

It had been over a year, now. She'd moved on. Moved into a new apartment. Cultivated new friends, a new personality, a new life. She was 100% Roland-free.

And then he just waltzes through the door and expects her to forgive him? Just like that? Oh no, not a chance.

"I'm different now." She muttered to herself, pulling the refrigerator door open with a bit more force than necessary. 

"Does the new, different Marianne still make the best coffee in the world?" She jumped, then relaxed. It was only Sunny.

He'd lost the button down he'd been wearing the night before, and his hair was sticking at odd angles from where Dawn had been laying on it, but he looked rested enough. "Because that's the Marianne  _I_  need right now." She laughed, gesturing at the table.

"Pick a cup and take a seat, it'll be a few more minutes."

Marianne liked Sunny. He'd been Dawn's friend for years, since they were children, and his family's hardware store had opened right next to their father's flower shop. They kept each other out of serious trouble, but were still good for fun little adventures, like the last-minute decision to go to a karaoke bar. She'd met many men over the years, but Sunny was the only one she trusted with her sister's heart.

"You feeling okay?" He asked, touching his forehead in the classic 'how's that hangover?' gesture. "Because you went pretty hard last night." She groaned.

"Yeah, and I'm feeling it. The Aspirin helped, though. Did you guys have fun?" And Sunny grinned, launching into a story about how he  _absolutely_  brought down the house with Little Red Corvette. 

"Girls were giving me numbers and everything, it was amazing." He  _sounded_  amazed, and it made Marianne laugh again. Sunny didn't realize what a catch he was, which was unfair. One should never use a secret crush as a litmus test for how successful one is with the ladies.

“Listen, if you want to be an official Prince impersonator, you have to fight Bruno Mars. I don't make the rules."

"Who's fighting Bruno Mars? Ooh, you should do Uptown Funk next time!" So it was the crack of noon on a Sunday, her little sister  _still_  had no excuse to be immediately bright-eyed and bushy-tailed upon waking up. But maybe that was the hangover talking. She swayed over to the coffeemaker, her dress swishing around her pale legs. "Is this ready? Will it kill me if I start drinking it before it's ready?"

Marianne gingerly got up, ever the gracious hostess. It didn't hurt that they'd all been taking their coffee the same way since they started drinking the stuff, so she could make them each a cup without even thinking about it. Lots of sugar and milk for Dawn, a little sugar and milk for Sunny, no sugar and a splash of milk for her. Simple. "Wait, what do you mean next time?" Dawn rolled her eyes over the top of her cup.

"Um, of  _course_  we're going back? Marianne, I haven't seen you have so much fun in  _months_. You sang, you danced with people, you talked to that bartender for like, an hour..." Her face lit up. "Say, he was kind of cute! Maybe you could-"

"No." Marianne said firmly, cutting her off. "I meant what I said last year. No more dating, no more romance, no more stupid boys being stupid. No offense, Sunny." He shrugged.

"Hey, individually, we're okay, but as a group? Yeah, boys are stupid." He grinned at her, and she snorted. Dawn had better wake up soon, before some other girl stole him away. Dawn sat back in her chair, pouting.

"I just want you to be happy, Mari. And last night was the first time you've looked happy in so long..." 

Marianne knew if she looked up, Dawn would be doing the teary eye thing that she'd been using to get her way since she was small. No matter how old she got, a bit of water in those baby blues turned everyone to butter. If she didn't look up, Dawn wouldn't get to her.

She looked up.

Bullseye.

"Ugh, okay,  _fine_. We can go back next Saturday... _if_  you promise not to try and hook me up with anyone." Dawn crossed her heart, smiling. "And I'm not singing!" Dawn snorted.

"That's what you think."


	4. Chapter 4

The week passed by slower than usual.

Sunday through Tuesday were always pretty dull, as most people were too busy with their lives to drink on a weeknight. Wednesday picked up, as it often did, which at least made him feel useful. Plum showed up on Thursday with Mettilda in tow and declared that he had that day off from now on, as she was implementing a ladies' only night.

"Everyone needs a safe space to drink and have fun, Bog." She'd said, shooing him out the door.

He decided to take the night for himself, hopping on his bike and riding to the outskirts of town, where thick patches of trees still grew.

Friday, he had a nervous itch that he couldn't explain. He was restless as hell, and his eyes kept glancing towards the door, but nothing unusual happened that night.

And then Saturday rolled around.

His itch came back full force, and this time, even Mettilda noticed.

"Get away from my bar before you break something." She snapped at him, pushing him towards the stage. "Rock out this energy or something, I can't deal with you right now." It always annoyed him when she talked to him like that. He could pick her up under one arm, if he wanted to.

"Stop treating me like a child, Metty." Bog complained, picking up the songbook to flip through it aimlessly. 'Rock it out', oh, sure.

"Stop acting like one, then! Honestly, you've been a surly little thing your whole life, King." Oh, so they were playing  _that_  game.

"At least I've not been a rancid snot since day one, Sugar." He shot back, punching a song into the machine. It started up right away, and she shook her head, laughing.

"Really? This one? You're such a drama queen." His grin was sharp, and he pointed directly at her as he sang.

"I've been insulted, disrespected! I've been mistreated!"

He'd always liked Deep Purple. Smoke on the Water was the first song he'd learned to play when he got his guitar all those years ago, and he'd ended up learning a bunch of their songs by ear, from his mother's records. His voice sounded good when he sang their stuff. Strong, confident. It really did calm him down, and it was a good distraction from his mysterious itch.

A bit too good, actually, as he didn't notice a trio of bodies come in until he heard the cheers.

"Yay! Encore, encore!" Bog flinched, but the blonde girl, Dawn? Dawn. She wasn't making fun of him, she seemed genuinely sincere, delighted by his performance. His eyes automatically slid to her sister.

Marianne looked tired beneath her purple eyeshadow, and she wasn't smiling...though her mouth  _was_  hanging open slightly.

He left the stage quickly.

"ID?" Mettilda called as they approached the bar, but Bog waved her away.

"Those two are underage, but over eighteen. This one is legal. What can I get you?" His cousin raised a brow, then shrugged, going to take the orders of another group of girls that had come in.

Dawn ordered another pink lemonade, but no amount of eyelash-batting was going to get him to put alcohol in it, and he told her as much. She frowned. "You are  _so_  not as cute as I remembered." 

He leaned away, making a face. He made another soon after, gesturing at her turned back. Marianne snorted, covering her mouth, and he felt heat creep up to his ears.

Sunny ordered another soda, and then it was her turn again.

"I, uh, think I'll start out a little easier tonight. What have you got that's full of fruit?" He grinned.

"One zombie, coming up."

As she watched him make her drink, Marianne thought back to what her sister had said. Cute? No, not even. Bunnies were cute. Heck,  _Dawn_  was cute. This guy, the bartender, he was more...she didn't even know his  _name_.

"Say, what's your name?" Bog looked up, surprised. A bit of rum splashed over the side of the glass as he set it down.

"Oh. Er, Bog? I'm Bog." She smiled at him, taking her drink.

"I'm Marianne but, I mean, I guess you already know that, huh?" He smiled back, but it was a nervous one. What exactly was this girl up to?

Their awkward moment was broken by the arrival of Dawn, who plunked herself down on the stool next to her sister. Bog took that opportunity to escape, help the group that had come in. It was getting busier, and he wasn't sure if that made him happy or not.

"He's gonna  _do it_." Dawn said excitedly, shaking Marianne hard enough that she was forced to put her drink down before it spilled.

"Who's gonna do what?"

A familiar beat came over the speakers, and Dawn started clapping along.

Sunny was really in his element on stage, confidence radiating out of him. It always killed her that his father hadn't encouraged his talent because a voice like that? It could take him places.

"Girls hit your hallelujah!" He sang, and Dawn bounced in place.

"Woo!" She sang back, and his face lit up. They did it again, and Bog raised a brow.

Once his song was done, Dawn abandoned her sister to run to her friend. She had to stoop slightly to hug him, but he looked pleased nonetheless. Finally finished with the group he'd been serving, Bog sidled back over to where Marianne was seated.

"Doing alright?" He asked, then winced. It had come out louder than he'd meant it to. She nodded, sucking on her straw.

"It's really sweet? But then there's this kick and...I don't actually drink much." She confessed, laughing. "I like bars for the music, and the people, and the...I used to work at Kingdom a few years back, right when I turned twenty one. I made so many friends, but that's also where I met-" She cut herself off, expression sour. "Never mind. It's over, now." The ex, again. Even when he wasn't around, she couldn't seem to avoid that guy.

"Our mothers founded this bar when they were young." Bog remarked, jerking his head at his cousin. "Now we run it, and they don't speak anymore." 

"I'm sorry to hear that." Marianne said, surprised to find that she meant it. He shrugged.

"Nothing lasts forever. Not the greatest friendships, not those epic romances, not even the bonds of family." He replied, and she snorted.

"You're awfully cynical for a bartender." She teased, pushing her straw around her glass with her finger.

"My cynicism is my gift to the world." He shot back with a grin, leaning his elbow on the bar. Marianne looked up and, wow his eyes were blue. They were even more striking than Dawn's. "Oh, your sister's up."

The guitar intro was less familiar, though Marianne did recognize it. It was just a song she hadn't thought about in a few years. She spared a second's glance at Sunny, and shook her head. He had his chin in his hands, watching her like her song was a sermon.

"He's got it bad." Bog noted, and she jumped. How was she always forgetting he was there?

"Yeah, and she's oblivious. I mean, she's my sister and I love her...but y'know." He stroked his chin, making a thoughtful noise. "What?"

"I'm just thinking, maybe you shouldn't count her out just yet. His name is Sunny, right?" Her brows knit together.

"Yeah? What's that have to-"

"Surprise, surprise, couldn't find it in your eyes. But I'm sure it's written all over my face." Dawn sang, swaying in place, and realization hit her like a hammer to the skull.

The song her sister was singing was called Sunrise.

"Oh my god. She's either playing this smooth as all get out, or she's the most clueless person on the planet." Marianne groaned, laughing. Bog was laughing too, and then his elbow slipped, and he knocked over the rest of her drink. "Jesus! No, it's good, it's good. Missed me."

He was gone and back in a flash with a rag and some 409. Sweet drinks like that would attract ants, if left alone. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-" She waved her hand dismissively. 

"I think I was about done with fruit, anyway. Got something smoother?"

It suddenly hit him. She'd been a bartender. She didn't drink much  _anymore_ , but she was clearly used to strong drinks, and could hold her liquor well. She was... _testing_  him. His skill. As he mopped up the spill, a grin spread over his face. She was  _challenging_  him. He liked that. He liked  _her_. The realization stopped him cold.

"Alright, tough girl. How about a Brave Bull?" She lit up, and he knew he'd chosen right.

Of course, that was the moment his mother decided to walk into Dark Forest, for the first time in almost a decade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs referenced this chapter:
> 
> Mistreated by Deep Purple  
> Uptown Funk by Bruno Mars  
> Sunrise by Norah Jones


	5. Chapter 5

Griselda took a moment to survey the bar. Not much had changed in the time she'd been away. They'd updated the sound system, slapped a new coat of paint on the walls, and a few of the tables looked new, but aside from that, it was exactly as she remembered it.

Bog had come home after his Saturday shift last week positively beaming, though he refused to admit it. He hadn't had that same inner light all week, but hey, maybe the new infatuation was a weekend party girl. She just needed to find her.

A glance towards the stage revealed a pretty little blonde in an outfit  _so similar_  to something she'd worn as a girl. The tables closest to the stage were basically empty, but the tables that lined the walls were packed. All the stools at the bar were full, too. And that's when she spotted them.

Bog was leaning against the bar, talking to a brunette in leggings and an oversized t-shirt. She looked like she was ready for a sleepover, not a club, but she was making him laugh. Then his arm slipped, over went her drink...and she didn't walk away. They continued talking, and there it was! The smile, plain as day on his face.

Oh, she had to meet her right away.

"One Brave Bull, guaranteed to put hair on your- mum?!"

Marianne was about to ask him exactly how a drink would put hair on her mother, when a short woman elbowed her way up to the bar. 

"Hiya, Bog!" She chirped. Well, as much as a voice as smokey as hers could chirp, anyway.

"Mother, what are ye even  _doing_  here?"

In his distress, an accent had begun to slip into Bog's voice and for the first time, Marianne wondered if there was more to him than he let on.

"Oh, cool your jets, kiddo. I was in the neighborhood when it occurred to me that I haven't seen my darling niece since before she was legally able to rent a car."

Mettilda was on the other side of the bar, taking orders from a trio of men. Gritting his teeth into a smile, Bog stepped away from the bar, throwing his rag and cleaner underneath. "Then let me go and  _get_  her for you. Excuse me, miss." He was careful not to say her name. If his mother knew that he remembered Marianne's name, it would be hell.

Marianne, for her part, merely sipped her drink and waited. Bog had mentioned that his mother and aunt didn't talk anymore, so it made sense that she wouldn't have seen her niece in ages, but why show up at peak operating hours? It was barely past eight, people wouldn't start clearing out to hit the clubs for another hour. If she'd  _really_  wanted to have some family time, wouldn't she have come at a later time?

It was then that Marianne realized that the older woman was staring at her.

"Hi." Griselda said with a bright smile, holding out her hand. "I'm Griselda." Marianne took the offered hand with an awkward smile of her own, eyes flicking over to where Bog and his cousin were arguing, yet mixing drinks at the same time. They were still on the clock, after all.

"Marianne." She replied, using her free hand to keep her drink as close to her mouth as it could go. "So, you opened this place, huh?"

Releasing her hold, Griselda merely waved dismissively. "Yeah, but that was years ago. So! Let's talk about you! What do you do for a living?" Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was being put on the spot, but Marianne found that she actually wanted to answer the other woman.

"Well, I used to be a bartender at Kingdom until about a year ago, but now I'm back working with my dad. He's a florist. I mostly do deliveries, my sister's the one who's actually going to school for design and stuff like that. I'm not very," She frowned against the lip of her glass. "I can never tell what'll look good together."

"Oh, I can, though!" Griselda exclaimed, clapping her hands together. "I'm a regular matchmaker! In fact- hey!" Bog was out from behind the bar in an instant, leading his mother to the door. "What's the big idea?"

"Mother," He hissed, voice low. "I can see exactly what you're doing, and I don't appreciate it." He glanced back, but Marianne had abandoned the bar, taking her drink over to sit with her sister. He let out a heavy sigh.

"But you  _like_  her!" Griselda protested, yanking her arm out of his lax grip, and placing her hands on her hips. "And she likes you, I can tell! So ask her for a date!"

"Women in this establishment are not to be harassed." Bog said flatly. "For dates or otherwise. Didn't you and Plum write that employee charter  _yourselves_ , mother?"

"Pff! It's not harassment when she's interested." Bog's eyes narrowed dangerously, and she shrank towards the door. "Okay, okay I'm going. But you should at least  _try_  for her number. Or that texting thing, what's that texting thing that's always in the news?"

"Twitter?" He supplied, and she nodded.

"Get her to tweet at you, then. But don't you let her leave without knowing she'll come back!"

Before she walked out, Griselda waved at Marianne, who shrank down in her seat, pretending to study the songbook. Dawn, however, waved back.

Then she was gone, and he could breathe easier.


	6. Chapter 6

"That was his  _mom_?" Dawn whispered, even though there was no possible way she'd be heard over the trio of college girls warbling along to Single Ladies. 

Marianne nodded, not really focused on the encounter anymore. Griselda had seemed nice, if lonely. "Dang. His dad must be  _super_  huge, then. She's shorter than Sunny!" Without looking up from the songbook, Marianne elbowed her sister in the ribs. "Ow! Oh, whoops, sorry Sunny."

He shrugged. He was 5'2". Hadn't grown an inch since the seventh grade. The jokes and comments had stopped bothering him after high school. Besides, Dawn was a little thoughtless sometimes, but she wasn't mean, like other people. She liked him just as he was. "It's cool, she  _is_  pretty short. So!" He tapped the table, to the beat of the song. "Marianne Marianne Marianne, I thought you weren't gonna sing?"

"Want to, now." She mumbled, pushing her hair out of her eyes. "But everything is just a little too... _much_ , you know?" Dawn yanked the book out from under her, slamming it shut. "Hey!"

"Close your eyes and flip the pages real fast, then point to one. That's how I've been doing mine!" Her eyes were sparkling with mischief and Marianne thought to herself,  _liar_.

It was as good a suggestion as any, though, so she did it. "Huh. That's actually...not bad." Dawn grinned.

"See? Brilliant sis is brilliant!" Marianne elbowed her again. "Oww, Marianne!"

"Don't you internet at me, I raised you better than that."

There was a small wait after the Single Ladies girls were done, as one of them had spilled her drink on the stage, but once it was cleaned up, she was on.

Bog wasn't pouting, no matter what his cousin said. Things had been going so well with Marianne; they'd been talking, laughing, possibly even flirting! How long had it been since he'd even  _done_  that? And then his mother came meddling right along, ruining everything. He was so worked up, he barely noticed the opening for the next singer coming over the speakers.

"I took my love and I took it down. Climbed a mountain and I turned around."

His head shot up. Marianne had none of the stage presence that Sunny, or even her sister had. She looked nervous, clutching the microphone with both hands. And she was looking right at him.

"Well I've been afraid of changing, 'cause I've built my life around you. But time makes you bolder, children get older. And I'm getting older too."

The lights were too bright. Marianne couldn't see Sunny or Dawn, at their floor table. She couldn't see any of the side booths, she couldn't make out any faces, and it was making her knees shake. But she could see the bar, and she could see Bog, so she focused on him.

Fleetwood Mac had been one of their mother's favorite bands. She'd been  _obsessed_  with Stevie Nicks and after she'd passed on, Marianne had refused to touch the records that were bequeathed to her. It hurt too much.

And then one day, she'd caught Roland with his tongue down another girl's throat. It had been raining as she drove home, and the silence in her car was deafening. So she turned on the radio, and Stevie's voice filled the air. But instead of being the straw that broke her, it lifted her up. It was like her mother was there, holding her, stroking her hair. Telling her that everything would be fine. That  _she_  would be fine.

_I am changing, and no one can stop me._

"And if you see my reflection in the snow-covered hills...well the landslide will bring it down." A few people cheered, and her face heated up. "Uh. Thanks." She put the microphone back into the stand, climbing down the stage steps on wobbly legs. As the lights cleared and Dawn came back into sight, Marianne could see her wipe her eyes.

"Oh, Marianne! That was so great! Mom would have loved it." Sunny excused himself quietly, letting them have a moment. There were just some places in their lives where he was only intruding, and that was one of them.

Walking back to the bar, it took him a minute to get noticed. The female bartender was busy, and the tall guy was...well, he was somewhere, but it wasn't behind the bar.

"Uh, hey? Scuse me?" He hopped up on a stool, stretching to wave his hand in the other man's face. Bog immediately snapped back to reality, looking down. "Whoa! Okay, now that I got your attention, can I get another Coke? In the can this time, though." He looked back at the girls, who were talking with their foreheads pressed together. "And another pink lemonade. I'm guessing Marianne'd have to come get her own drink, right?"

Bog looked towards the sisters as well, then shook his head. "It's fine, you won't want it. Trust me." He poured the drinks quickly, practiced. He'd made this cocktail a million times, one more time wouldn't kill him. Though, to be fair, it had never been a message before.

Marianne was a music lover. A cocktail connoisseur. A bright woman, in general. If anyone could understand what he was trying to say, it would be her. 

After all, he wouldn't be breaking the rules if she came to him, first.

"Here." Sunny marveled at the colorful drink. Marianne's last two drinks had been muted, dark, but this one popped, even in the dimmest light. He tucked his can in the crook of his arm, holding the glasses in both hands. "Careful now, I think I see another spill." Sunny looked up at the taller man, grinning.

"You're alright, you know that? Kinda terrifying, but alright." It was an odd compliment, but he'd take it. Odd suited him.

Sunny only left the bar when Dawn waved him back and then, all Bog could do was wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song references in this chapter:
> 
> Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)- Beyonce   
> Landslide- Fleetwood Mac


	7. Chapter 7

"Special delivery, ladies!" Sunny called as he approached their table. Dawn jumped up to help him, so that he wouldn't drop his own drink putting theirs down. "Dunno what this is, but it's pretty?" He said, handing Marianne her drink.

It wasn't even a challenge, guessing. The tequila sunrise had a distinctive look to it, and was an easy, popular cocktail to make. She took a sip, then laughed.

"It's another tequila sunrise." She said, humming to herself. Dawn and Sunny exchanged a look.

"Another? You haven't had one of these tonight, Marianne. You feeling okay?" Sunny tried to take the drink from her. He wasn't quite sure what was in the other drinks she'd had, but mixing a bunch of different liquors couldn't be good for her. She pulled her drink away, holding it with both hands.

"Tequila, orange juice, grenadine syrup. Unblended, and served over ice in a tall glass. Sometimes garnished with orange slices and cherries. It's also a song. Sorry, I just," She paused, glancing over at the bar. Bog was pretending to wipe up a spill at the far end, but his eyes kept wandering to their table. And then it hit her.

"Take another shot of courage." She said quietly. "Wonder why the right words never come." A smile spread over her face. "I'll be right back."

Standing, she strode purposefully over to the bar. Oh, how hadn't she seen it before? Bog was interesting, and easy to talk to. He was funny. But more importantly, he never tried to force conversation on her. Never openly hit on her, though they'd been unknowingly flirting all night. And, she bit her lip, okay, he  _was_  pretty cute. She was almost to Bog, when Sunny yelled for her.

"Marianne!"

But his warning came too late. A large hand closed over her wrist, and she found herself yanked back and spun, looking up into Roland's face.

"Darlin', we really got to talk. Since I saw you again last week, I haven't been able to stop thinkin' about you." Her face soured, and she pulled her arm away.

"You need to leave. How did you even-  _Dawn_!" She accused, and her sister popped out of her seat.

"Hey, I unfriended him!" One of Roland's friends waved at her, and she shrank back down. "Ooh, but I didn't unfriend him. My bad."

Roland stepped back into her line of vision. "Listen, sweetheart, it's been over a year now, can't you forgive and forget? I've still got your ring, and I've missed you so much-" Dawn spoke up again, not daring to get within actual touching distance of Roland and his crew.

"He's had like seven girlfriends since you dumped him, actually!" He flinched, and Marianne snorted. How had she  _ever_  been interested in a jerk like him?

"You know what? I'm not even mad anymore." Roland smiled, standing up straighter. "You hurt me, Roland. You broke my heart. But I'm over you, have been for ages. I'm a different person than the one you cheated on." This time, she was the one who smiled, all her teeth on display. "Also, my  _new_  job involves a  _lot_  of heavy lifting, so if you don't leave right now on your own, I'm gonna help you again. And I'm gonna do it  _much_  more violently than I did last week."

His hands up, Roland backed towards the door slowly, turning and sprinting the last few feet. A few people cheered, and Marianne began to laugh. Her stomach was churning, though she didn't know why. After a scene like that,  _nothing_  could make her nervous again, right?

At the bar, Bog wasn't even trying to hide his grin. "Look at you." He said, leaning over the counter. "Very impressive, tough girl. What's the matter, not satisfied with your drink?" The last part came out softer because really, he could have been reading this situation wrong the entire time. She'd already destroyed one man tonight, he could be her second.

"No no, I'm into it. You've got good taste in double entendres. So, I was thinking," Her stomach flipped again, but this time, she  _knew_  why. Her face went pale. "Oh, god. I'm so sorry!" 

And then Marianne dashed out the front door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs referenced this chapter:
> 
> Tequila Sunrise- The Eagles


	8. Chapter 8

That night when Bog got home, there wasn't any smile.

He threw his jacket and boots into the hall closet, and when Griselda came down the stairs, he didn't speak to her.

"Well? Don't keep me in suspense, what happened?" He stayed silent, trudging up to his room. "Bog?" He paused, finally, at the top of the stairs.

"She ran." 

He'd spoken so softly, his mother had to take a few seconds for his words to register. When they did, however, she promptly climbed up after him.

"She  _what_?! What do you mean she  _ran_? Who runs away from someone asking them on a date?"

"I didn't  _ask_  her on a date, mother." Bog said with a sigh, scrubbing his hand down his face. "We were talking and then she, she  _looked_ at me in proper light, I suppose. Her face went pale, and she ran out the door." He touched his doorknob, not looking at her. "I think I'd just like to go to sleep now. I'll see you tomorrow."

Griselda was left standing in the small townhouse hallway, staring at his closed door.

* * *

 

Marianne blinked blearily at her ceiling, then jolted up. Her head pounded painfully, vision swimming.

"Oh good, you're alive." Dawn's voice had come from somewhere to the left, and Marianne realized that they were in her bed. Dawn had her tablet out, and was watching some cartoon with her earphones in. She'd borrowed one of Marianne's nightgowns, too.

"Wh- how'd we get here?" Marianne's mouth was dry, making her tongue feel ineffective. Dawn just handed her a bottle of water, and some pills. "Thanks." Her sister only sighed, putting the tablet down.

"Well, after your ever so graceful duck and chuck at the bar," Marianne winced. That part, she remembered. "Sunny basically carried you to your car and drove us all home. He also paid the tab, but says it was a lot less than he thought it would be, so you don't owe him anything." Dawn fell back against the pillows, throwing up her arms.

"What was that even  _about_ , Marianne?! You'd gotten up to talk to that bartender-"

"Bog." Marianne said quietly. "His name is Bog." Dawn wrinkled her nose.

"Weird. Anyway, suddenly Roland shows up, and you make him go away, and then you're talking to Bog, and then you run outside, hurl, and pass out! How much did you even  _drink_?!" She thought back.

Most of a Zombie, an entire Brave Bull, and a few sips of a Tequila Sunrise. Barely added up to two drinks, lumped together. Of course, two of those drinks contained tequila, which wasn't her first choice when it came to hard liquor, so there's a chance that she overestimated herself...

"Too much. I- hey, is Sunny here?" She wanted to thank him for dragging her sorry butt home. Dawn shook her head.

"After he put you on your bed, I told him it would probably be best if he went home. He was so- wait a minute. You're distracting me!" Marianne winced again, Dawn's yelling rocking around in her skull. " _Why_  was it so important that you had to go and talk to the bartender? What was that all about?"

Holding her water bottle as if it was a tall glass, Marianne began to explain. "It was a message. He wanted me to come and talk to him, because he couldn't come over and talk to me. I, I was gonna ask him out-" Dawn squealed, and she dropped the water bottle, bowing forward and clutching her head.

"Oops, sorry sis. But this is a big deal! You haven't liked like,  _anyone_  since Roland! I'm so happy for you!" Once the ringing in her ears stopped, Marianne sat up again.

"But I screwed it up, Dawn! I didn't realize how nervous I would be, and between the booze, Roland spinning me around, and the rolling jitters in my belly I just kind of..." She mimed vomiting. "I'm so embarrassed. I don't even want to go back next week."

"Which is why you're going back tonight." Dawn said smoothly, standing and walking over to the closet. "You're going to actually brush your hair, put on a pretty dress, and he's gonna be so wowed, he'll totally forget that you fertilized a bush last night." Marianne snorted.

"I didn't fertilize a bush, that's something else. If anything, I threw some mulch on it. Dinner was like, a salad. Then all that fruit..." Dawn squealed again, but softer and with obvious disgust. "And if seeing me in a dress is enough to make him forget about me making an ass of myself, then I don't want him! I learned my lesson about shallow guys." 

Her head was feeling better, but she really needed to eat something. Dawn was still going through her closet, looking for  _anything_  that wasn't primarily something she wore to word. "Good luck with that." Marianne muttered, heaving herself out of bed. "I'm gonna make some eggs, you hungry?" From inside the closet, her sister called, 

"I made cereal. You're out of milk, by the way!" She snorted again, shaking her head. That girl was lucky she was planning on going to the store soon, anyway.

Eggs weren't exactly the most mind-consuming thing, so as she cooked, her thoughts wandered. What if she  _did_  go back tonight? Would that seem courteous, or desperate? Would he even  _want_  to see her, after a performance like that? Marianne groaned to herself, shoveling her eggs onto a plate.

At the very least, she had food now.

Dawn eventually wandered out, apparently defeated by the utter lack of fashion in her big sister's life. "I threw a couple things on the bed, but  _seriously_ , Marianne, you need to stop dressing like a truck driver."

"Dawn." She deadpanned, fork hovering near her mouth. "Driving a truck is literally what I do." Dawn clicked her tongue, falling into the other chair at the table.

"But you don't have to  _dress_  like it! Anyway, I gotta talk to you. See..." She worried her lip with her teeth for a moment, then began again. "Okay, you know Sunny?" What a question! Marianne let out a bark of laughter.

"Oh, I dunno. Sunny, that weird kid that always hung around the shop? Sunny, that guy who took you to junior prom, actual prom, and Six Flags on your eighteenth birthday? Sunny, about ye high, carried me to my room after I passed out last night? That guy?" Dawn burst into a round of giggles, letting her face fall into her hands. "Or was there a different Sunny I'm not thinking of?"

" _Yes_  that Sunny, you dork! My best friend, Sunny! Well, here's the thing." She bit her lip, taking a deep breath. "I think I like him."

Marianne's blood ran cold.

Some of the shortest relationships of Dawn's life had started with the words 'I think I like him'. Hand shaking, she picked up her water bottle. "You think, or you know? Because this is  _Sunny_  we're talking about, here."

Dawn avoided the question for a few minutes, jumping up to go through the fridge for a glass of orange juice. By the time she sat back down, Marianne had finished her eggs, and was waiting patiently. 

"I'm pretty sure. Because, I mean." She sighed, resting her chin on her fist, elbow on the table. "He's always been there for me. Every good memory I have, he's attached to. And I guess, oh, I don't know!" She let her arm slip, falling headfirst onto the table with a soft thump. "I never looked at him like that before, but then last week, after he sang, all these girls were giving him their numbers. And that was so funny to me, because he's  _Sunny_ , he's never tried to date anyone before! But then I thought, maybe they're onto something? So last night I tried to not look at him like someone I'd known my whole life and, and I saw it."

The look in her eyes was distant, as she remembered what she'd seen. "He's so confident, and so cute? Why didn't you ever tell me Sunny was cute, Marianne?" The older woman shrugged.

"I don't like younger guys?" She replied, and Dawn laughed.

"Good! That gives you incentive to go talk to that bartender today! But first, help me think up something to do about Sunny?" Her happy demeanor turned worried in moments, and Marianne immediately felt pity for her.

Poor Dawn, who'd had more crushes than she could count, had never really  _liked_  anyone before, to the point where she made plans instead of rushing in with her heart on her sleeve. Though, that  _was_  a step in the right direction. It made her think that maybe, just maybe, Dawn's newly-found affections for her friend could be more lasting than others had been.

"Okay, little sister, here's what we're gonna do."


	9. Chapter 9

Bog had honestly thought he'd never see her again. After all, every other time a woman ran out of his life, she was gone for good. So imagine his surprise when, shortly after opening, in she strolled.

"ID?" He spat tersely, and she winced, but produced it. "Didn't expect to see you back. Was last night's horror show not enough?"

"Okay, stop." She held up her hands and, amazingly, he quieted down. "Yes, I disappeared at the  _worst_  moment last night, but you  _don't_  get to talk to me like that." Marianne inhaled, then let her breath out slowly.  _Keep calm. He's being a jerk because he's upset. You'd act like that, too._

For his part, Bog was clearheaded enough to feel ashamed. Being mad was no reason to be an ass. He scratched the back of his neck, clearing his throat. "Ahem, yes, sorry. You were saying?"

"I threw up outside, then blacked out."

They stared at each other a moment, and then Bog began to laugh. The look of horror on her face made his anger dissipate completely. Obviously, she hadn't meant to tell him the  _whole_  truth, but it happened anyway. Eventually though, he laughed himself out, calming down enough to speak again.

"That's, ah, that's a decent excuse." He snorted again, covering his face so he wouldn't have to look at her. Her indignant expression kept setting him off. "So, now that you're feeling better, how can I help you?"

Marianne's face shifted several times, from indignant, to nervous, to confident. She took a couple more breaths, then finally spoke.

"Do you want to go bowling? With me?"

He blinked at her.

"Y-yes?" His reply came out like a question, and he squeezed his eyes shut. "Yes. I would." He cautiously opened one eye.

Marianne's smile lit up her entire face, and it knocked him backwards a bit. She was so beautiful, and so happy, and it was because of him. He felt a smile begin to creep up his own face, and then a spill towel hit him in the back of the head. "What the-"

"Get out of here." Mettilda said, jerking her thumb at the door. "We'll be lucky if we see a hundred people tonight. Go have fun for once in your sad, sorry life."

Somewhere deep inside, it seriously irked him that his cousin could only be happy for him by cutting him down, but at the moment, he was too pleased with his sudden free night to care. Grabbing his jacket, he walked around the bar, looking down at Marianne.

"Well? Did you have somewhere else you needed to be?" He asked, holding out a hand. With a small smile, she took it. Her hands were tiny compared to his, but rough. The hands of someone who worked hard. He decided he liked them.

"As a matter of fact, I don't. Shall we?" As she lead him to the door, Bog turned back to his cousin, mouthing his thanks. She only grinned, shaking her head.

There were only two cars in the parking lot, and Marianne looked up at him. "Should we take my car, or yours?" He frowned.

"That's not my car, I park around the back." He let go of her hand, walking to the rear parking lot. Her interest piqued, Marianne followed. She practically had to run to keep up with his long stride. What she saw, however, stopped her dead in her tracks.

"You're kidding me."

She recognized the bike, of course. Her childhood had been spent wandering between the flower shop and the hardware store, and the back office was positively  _plastered_  with vintage motorcycle pictures. Sunny's father was a big fan.

"It's a Sportster, right?" Smaller than the ones you usually saw on the road, the Sportster Harleys were popular for track racing. He wore a surprised smile. "Looks like a...76?"

"78, actually. It, er, it was my father's. Mum bought it for him, back when the bar was first doing really well." He shuffled his feet. "If you're not comfortable with the idea of riding it, we could just take your car."

"Are you  _kidding_?! I wanna drive." She hopped onto the bike, making vroom noises. Bog laughed so hard he almost started coughing.

"Not a chance, missy. Motorcycles require a whole separate license, and I don't feel like having my only mode of transportation impounded." He placed a hand on her stomach, shoving her up and onto the back of the seat before climbing on himself. His helmet, which had been hanging on one of the handlebars, was plopped onto her head. "Only have the one, sorry if it's a bit big."

Marianne's stomach was doing flips again. She'd been partially kidding before, but now, she was excited. Terrified, but excited. The helmet was slightly loose, but fit well enough. Scooting back a bit, she placed her hands on his shoulders. "Okay! Ready when you are!" Bog snorted.

"You may want to grab tighter, tough girl." He started the bike, and it jolted. Her arms were around his chest in an instant. "What did I tell you?" He laughed, peeling out of the lot.

Marianne would have stuck out her tongue. She would have had a clever retort, or some scathing bit of sarcasm, or something,  _anything_  at all, but it felt like the air had been punched out of her lungs. The wind was whipping past her face, eyes clenched shut, heart pounding with ecstatic fear.

It was like she'd been living her entire life with weights on, but suddenly, someone pulled them off and she found she could  _fly_.

It took less than twenty minutes to make it to the bowling alley but when they stopped, Marianne found that she didn't want to get off. Bog dismounted, though, holding out a hand for her.

"You coming?" She placed her hands on the handlebars, and they were still warm. "Or, perhaps you'd want to come back later? They're open later than almost everywhere in town, after all." Her face lit up.

"Oh god,  _yes_." He laughed, climbing back onto the bike.

"Alright then, Marianne. Where to?"

"I absolutely, positively, do not  _care_." Her arms tightened around his stomach, body molded to his back. He grinned.

"Ah yes, wherever. My favorite destination. Hang on!"

And they were off again.


	10. Chapter 10

Eventually, they made it into the bowling alley. Marianne mopped the floor with him, Bog accused her of cheating, they ate many plates of overpriced nachos. Without the noise and distractions of the bar, the pair got to talk at their own pace.

Marianne was fascinated with machinery. In addition to doing deliveries for her dad, she was also the one who made sure the truck and walk-in coolers for the flowers stayed working. Her legs were covered with little scars from all the cuts she'd sustained working with metal and thorns, so she hated skirts, but she loved loud makeup and jewelry. The summer before she'd started college, she'd kidnapped her sister and Sunny and took them around the state to all the free outdoor concerts they could find. She'd rented a van, and they basically lived in it for two weeks. She was allergic to pet dander, penicillin, and bee stings. Their mother had died when she and her sister were teenagers, in an automobile accident, and some days she wondered if she'd ever truly recover from that.

Bog had been born in Scotland, while his parents had been visiting his father's family. He had no siblings, and aside from his aunt and cousin, no other family members that lived in the States. His father had been exactly six feet, eleven inches and until the day he died, lamented the Lord not giving him that extra inch. At six feet, eight inches himself, Bog didn't fit easily inside most cars. He looked a little silly on the bike, but it was still more comfortable than squashing his legs under a dashboard. He couldn't easily stomach seafood aside from clam chowder, secretly enjoyed baking, and could properly layer a 747 shot blindfolded. His father had died of a heart attack his second year at college, where he'd been studying psychology. He'd dropped out to return home immediately, and took over working at the bar from his mother shortly after.

That night, Marianne had him take her back to his place, so she could apologize to his mother for her rudeness at the bar. As she excused herself to use the bathroom, Griselda yanked her son down to her level.

"You marry that girl." She hissed, face deadly serious. Bog went to laugh, and she pinched him on the ear. "I'm not kidding."

After that, they went on several more 'date' dates before settling into a routine. After work, Marianne would stop by Dark Forest. Not for a drink or any real reason, just to see Bog. If they were slow, she'd steal him away for a quick dinner, always bringing something back for Mettilda. If they were particularly busy, well, sometimes she'd hop behind the bar herself and get to work. Technically she was still licensed, after all. Once the bar closed, he'd follow her home. Saturdays, Dawn and Sunny would come with her.

Soon enough, a year had passed.

Dawn had left teenagerdom a month before, and it was less than a week until Sunny's twenty-first. In the time between her confession to Marianne and then, she'd done nothing. Unlike every other infatuation she'd ever had, Dawn was scared. If Sunny didn't feel the same way about her, their friendship would never be the same, and that would just kill her.

Marianne had been determined to let them work it out on their own, but the two idiots just could  _not_  read body language. Every time it looked like they were finally getting close to figuring the other out, someone would shy away, and it was back to square one. It was driving her  _bonkers_.

Luckily, Sunny's birthday fell on a Saturday this year.


	11. Chapter 11

Dawn had called off work for the day, to attend the birthday party Sunny's family was throwing in their home. Later that night, she and Marianne would be dragging him to the bar, as usual, but  _tonight_  was going to be different, in more ways than one.

For one thing, the person who really needed that 'liquid courage' would be the  _only_  one not legal to drink.

"Stop that, you're gonna hurt yourself." Marianne snapped, popping her sister in the back of the head with the flat of her hairbrush.

Dawn released her lower lip, watching in the mirror as it went from deep red to light pink. "Sorry. I'm just, I'm scared, Mari."

Her crush on Sunny had been eating her up inside for months. It wasn't unusual for her to call her sister in tears.

"Sometimes I'm like, maybe I should just get it over with. Rip off the band-aid and tell him. But then I remember that summer his grandma took all his sibs and me to the Grand Canyon, because he couldn't imagine seeing something that cool without me around, or the weeks we all lived in the van when we were doing the concert thing, and I just freeze." She'd sobbed one Saturday night, after Sunny had left. "He's my best friend, and I can't lose him because one day I woke up and realized he was everything I ever wanted in a boyfriend, too."

While they were watching a cheesy jukebox musical and decimating a bowl of popcorn, Dawn suddenly muttered, "I wish I knew music like you and Bog do, then I could just sing it out and let that be that." Marianne snorted.

"So do that. Pick a love song and dedicate it to him." Dawn hit her with one of the couch pillows. 

"It's not that easy! It has to be  _perfect._ I can't just throw like, a Betty Who song in his face and expect him to realize it's about him." Marianne grabbed another handful of popcorn, munching on it thoughtfully.

"Mm, good p-" Her mouth fell open, unchewed kernels falling onto the blanket. A plan formed. "What if you could personalize it?" Dawn laughed.

"Oh, that'd be great, but how many songs are there with the name  _Sunny_  in them?" Marianne just smiled.

"I can think of one."

Weeks later, Dawn was finally ready. That is, if she didn't back out at the last second. Again.

"Dawn, you've been putting this off since your  _own_  birthday. Are you sure you're gonna be able to go through with it?" Marianne may have been terrible at doing her own hair, but no one knew their way around Dawn's curls like she did.

"I don't know!" The blonde exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. "I keep chickening out! On my birthday, I did that Van-something song dad likes-"

"Brown Eyed Girl," Marianne supplied. "And it was very sweet of you, even if everyone just assumed you were pulling a pronoun swap because your sister has brown eyes." Dawn groaned.

"And then last week, I was really gonna do it! But then I heard Style on the radio at work and I decided to sing that instead, because  _Taylor_  and they'd  _just_  got it in, so it was like  _fate_..." Marianne smiled, shaking her head. "But I'm gonna do it tonight. No excuses. If I look like I'm gonna chicken out, smack me."

"Ooh, is it  _my_  birthday?" Her sister teased, and Dawn giggled. "You'll be fine. And, you look very cute." Marianne may not have cared much about clothes, but even she noticed when her sister was really making an effort. Adding a light dusting of hairspray, she stepped back. "There. And now you look even cuter."

Dawn jumped up and spun around, her dress belling out before swishing around her thighs. When she'd first seen it in the store, Dawn had fallen in love, and Marianne had to agree. It was a very 'Dawn' dress; light blue, sleeveless, in something the clerk had called a fairy cut. A perfect summer dress.

There was a knock at the door.

Dawn had left the party early, claiming that she'd promised to help Marianne with something, so Sunny had agreed to meet up with them later. When she opened the door, his eyes widened.

"Dawn." He breathed, sounding like he'd been punched in the stomach. She giggled, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "You look great! That's, I mean, just," His mouth moved soundlessly for a few seconds, taking her all in. "Wow!"

Before he could step into the apartment, though, Marianne was at the door, holding out her hand. "Keys." 

That had been their agreement. Marianne was going to play designated driver tonight, so long as Sunny agreed to leave his keys in her apartment, and sleep over after. He  _wasn't_  going to be starting off his legal drinking years with an accident, not on her watch. 

His entire keychain clinked as he slapped it into her hand. "As promised. So, later, are you gonna give me the couch or the bathtub?" Dawn snorted, grabbing her phone off the table.

"If you pass out in the bathtub, I'm taking a video of what happens when I turn it on." They laughed together, Marianne watching them from the door to her room. They'd be just fine after tonight. Better than ever. "But seriously, hurry up, Marianne! It's like eight already!"

Phone, keys, wallet. "All set!"

* * *

 

When they arrived at Dark Forest, Sunny walked directly up to the bar, a grin on his face. Bog rolled his eyes. "ID?" He'd barely even gotten the words out when Sunny slapped his license down. "Okay, okay. So, what'll you be having as your first drink then, birthday boy?" He blinked.

"I, I don't know?" Sunny replied, leaning against a stool. People at the bar began to shout out suggestions.

"Give him a Duck Fart." Marianne said, laughing. "Oh, or a Slippery Nipple!"

"Are you just choosing those because the names sound funny?" Sunny accused her, but he was smiling. Marianne just laughed some more.

"They both have Bailey's in them. That stuff is literally alcoholic chocolate milk, and the best starter whiskey around. A Duck Fart would be a bit stronger, because it has three types of alcohol in it, but you don't really taste it. The real problem with those is knowing when you've had enough." She explained, and Bog felt his heart swell. 

He loved listening to her talk, be it about alcohol, music, machines, the weather. Sunny was nodding along as she expanded her explanation to include what he probably wouldn't like. "And  _no tequila_." She finished, directing this comment at both Sunny and Bog. "It's basically the liquid equivalent of Wonder Woman's golden lasso, with its setting set to asshole."

Bog handed off the drink he'd been making for another patron, collected her credit slip, then turned back to Sunny. "Now that you've been read to rights, what can I get you?" He glanced between Bog and Marianne, trying to remember all the names and ingredients she'd just rattled off to him, then sighed.

"Guess I'm having a Duck Fart."

It looked good, for a layered shot with a nasty name, and Sunny stared it down for a moment.

"You don't have to shoot it." Marianne told him. "You can just drink it like a drink."

He shot it, coughing a little bit, and the patrons that had been paying attention cheered. 

"And now the night begins." Bog said, handing him a Mudslide. "Trust me on this one." He'd already gotten Dawn her usual lemonade, but Marianne was a mystery. "So, what does one serve the designated driver, eh?"

"A kiss and a Coke." Marianne replied flippantly, leaning up to steal a smooch. While her face was near his she whispered, "She's gonna do it tonight." Bog's eyebrows shot up, and he glanced over at Dawn and Sunny, who'd snagged their usual floor table and were singing along to the current performer, who was staggering through Handle with Care.

Dawn didn't even need to look through the book. She'd had the number memorized for ages. Hell, she probably wouldn't need the words on the screen, as she'd gotten those down, too. A few more people came and went, as she and Sunny drank their drinks and talked about upcoming movies they wanted to see. When Marianne joined them with her soda, they teased her about being up at the bar so long.

Finally, the clubs in the area started to get busier, and the bar began to clear out. Dawn finished her lemonade.

"I'm gonna do one!" She declared, heart pounding as she stood. Sunny looked up at her, confused.

"But, you didn't touch the book?" He asked, and she shook her head.

"I know which one I wanna do." She climbed the stage steps, a light tremble running through her frame. "I, I wanna dedicate this one to my best friend." Dawn stammered, punching in the numbers. Then the music began.

"Sunny," She sang, and he sat up straighter. "Yesterday my life was filled with rain. Sunny, you smiled at me and really eased the pain." Taking the mic out of its stand, she stepped away from the blinding lights, so she could see him.

"Now the dark days are gone, and the bright days are here. My Sunny one shines so sincere." Her voice went slightly breathless, and she saw his own breathing stop. "Sunny one so true, I love you."

If Marianne hadn't been there to stop him, she was certain that he'd have rushed the stage. "Let her finish, champ. It's barely a three-minute song."

"You're my spark of nature's fire. You're my sweet complete desire." Dawn was so into her song, singing and swaying, watching his reactions, she barely worried about what would happen when she stopped. "Sunny one so true, I love you." The song ended, and almost the entire bar began to cheer. "Oh! Thanks!" She'd barely gotten the microphone back into its stand, when suddenly, he was there on stage with her.

Sunny was a head and a half shorter than her. He'd been her best friend since they were five. He was the first person she saw when she woke up after having her tonsils removed when she was twelve. He'd taken her to every school dance, roadtripped with her to Six Flags when she finally passed her driver's test at eighteen, and let himself be dragged to silly places like karaoke bars all the time. She was so in love with him, it was painful to keep it in.

And she could see in his face that he felt the same way.

"Wish I had your guts." He said, feigning casual. "Because I've been trying to tell you that since we were fourteen."

Dawn didn't even try to fake it.

With a little shriek, she seized him in a fierce hug, nearly lifting him off the ground. Marianne couldn't hear what he was whispering to her sister, but whatever it was made her laugh out loud, kissing him right there on the stage.

"Take it to the audience, lovebirds!" Mettilda called, and they broke apart, both blushing fiercely. They descended the stage hand in hand, and Marianne found that she suddenly had to play the stern older sister.

"So, about sleeping arrangements tonight." The blush, which had dimmed on them both, came back full-force. "I'm  _thinking_  I can trust you two to behave on my couch, mainly because I recently bought a hose that easily plugs into the sink, and I won't hesitate to turn it on you both. Sunny? A moment?" She gestured for him to follow her to the bar.

She was smiling, but he still felt the fear of a man walking into a bear's cave. "Marianne?"

"You're like my brother, Sunny, and I do love you. You're the only person I've ever trusted with Dawn's heart. You break that trust, you do  _anything_  to hurt her, and people will be afraid to whisper your name." His eyes widened. Sometimes he forgot just how scary Marianne could be. "Got it?"

"If I ever do anything to hurt Dawn, Marianne, I'm pretty sure my own family will turn me over to you." He replied, and she laughed, patting him on the shoulder.

"Go on, then. And Sunny?" He looked back at her, bracing himself. "Happy birthday." With a bright smile on his face, he practically ran back to Dawn. Bog clapped a hand on her shoulder, leaning over the bar to kiss her cheek.

"A good thing you did, there. You know they'll be disgusting to be around now, right?" A shudder ran through her, but she kept smiling.

"Mmhm. Good thing my boyfriend's a bartender, huh?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs referenced this chapter:
> 
> Brown Eyed Girl- Van Morrison  
> Style- Taylor Swift  
> Handle With Care- Traveling Wilburys  
> Sunny- Bobby Hebb


	12. Chapter 12

At first, she'd been perfectly willing to let Dawn have her day, but then Marianne got to thinking. 

She and Bog had been together over a year. They'd rounded every 'couple' base there was, short of living together. They were in love. But in all this time, they'd never actually, physically said the words. Not once.

After Roland, she'd been closed-off. Numb to the words, to the thought of the emotions. She almost  _hated_  the idea of love, because all it ever did was tear you up. And then she'd met Bog. Bog was shy. A little withdrawn, a little repressed. Completely willing to speak his mind, whenever she asked him to, though she suddenly realized that she'd never asked him about his heart. But while he wasn't vocal about his affections, he also wasn't passive. There wasn't a person in town that wasn't aware, on some level, that the lanky bartender and the surly floral deliverywoman were together, and she loved that.

Still, the idea bothered her.

Dawn had questioned herself over and over again, until she was 100% sure that she loved Sunny, so she had no problem saying it openly. Sunny had known for years, keeping it hidden inside, so he seemed  _relieved_  to finally be able to let the feelings show. Marianne loved Bog, and it was real.

She rolled her shoulders, stepping away from the bar. Bog looked away from the customers he'd been serving. "Marianne?"

"I'll be right back, just have to get something off my chest."

Not wanting to bother them, she grabbed the book nearest the stage, rather than the one on Dawn and Sunny's table. There were several things she'd had in mind, for this particular message, but it would be  _perfect_  if they had her first choice...and what do you know? They did.

Taking the stage, Marianne didn't bother to do any sort of dedication. Just like the first time she'd been up there, the only face she could see was Bog's, and that's what mattered.

The drums and guitar set a roll to her hips, and she smiled.

Bog looked up when the music started, recognizing the song from one of Marianne's records. He set down the glass he'd been holding, turning his attention to her.

Their eyes met, and Marianne's heart began to race. "Sweet wonderful you,  
you make me happy with the things you do." Distantly, she heard her sister cheer. "Oh, can it be so, this feeling follows me wherever I go."

Instead of taking the microphone off its stand, she just picked up the whole thing. The added weight would keep her grounded enough. "I never did believe in the ways of magic, but I'm beginning to wonder why."

As Bog watched her dance around the stage during the interlude, he couldn't help but grin. What had he done to deserve such a wonderful woman? He almost didn't notice the door opening.

But then that grating voice was back.

Bog looked up sharply, focused completely on the man before him. Roland had bothered them every few months, trying to beg Marianne back, even after she made it clear that she'd moved on. Bog had honestly thought they'd seen the back of him after last time, when she'd kissed him hard on the mouth, right in front of her ex. Apparently, he couldn't take a hint.

"I never did believe in miracles, but I've a feeling it's time to try." Marianne sang, and in front of him, Roland's face curled into a sneer.

"You really think that's for you, big man?" He asked, gesturing at her. "You're nothing. After tonight, she's gonna stop this slumming and come home. You're not the one for her." Bog laughed.

"And I suppose you think  _you_  are?" He taunted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Don't, don't break the spell, it would be different and you know it will."

Roland snorted, sparing a glance Marianne's way before drawing a gun from inside his jacket. "Y'know, I reckon I do."

And then he fired.

"-and I don't have to tell you you're the only one. You! You make loving fun! You! You make loving-" Marianne froze at the sound of the shot, voice dying in her throat as the music continued to play. Behind the bar, Bog had fallen to the ground. Once she stepped away from the glare of the lights, she could see Roland standing in front of him, gun still raised.

From where she stood rooted to the stage, she could see blood on the bottles, Mettilda covering her mouth, Roland's smug grin slowly turning into horror.

And then she began to scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs referenced in this chapter:
> 
> You Make Loving Fun- Fleetwood Mac


	13. Chapter 13

Griselda had been watching a movie when she got the call. The number was unfamiliar, and while she usually would have let the machine get it, the fact that it was after ten concerned her. No good calls came after ten.

"Hello?"

"Selly, it's Plum. Don't hang up!" Her thumb froze over the end button, lips curling into a sneer. "Now, I normally wouldn't call this late, or ever, but Mettilda just called me. From the hospital." Griselda's blood ran cold. "There's been an accident."

"What happened?" She croaked, falling back against the couch. "Where's Bog, Plum? What happened to my son?"

* * *

 

Time seemed to move very slowly around her.

One moment, Marianne was standing on the stage, screaming in horror. The next moment, her shrieking went angry, and she launched herself at Roland. She didn't have Bog's stride, yet it took less than ten steps for her to cross the bar, tackling him.

"-kill you I'll kill you I'll  _kill you I'm going to kill you_ -" She roared, his head banging against the tile as she throttled him. Marianne couldn't hear his begging, all she could hear was the reverberation of a single bullet. This man had ruined her life twice now, and he was going to pay.

As Marianne had made her mad dash for Roland, Sunny hopped over the bar. Mettilda was still frozen in shock, hands clutching her face, and she hadn't even gotten a close look at him. Bog's eyes were closed, but he was still breathing. Heavily, in fact.

"Bog?" Sunny asked cautiously, and slowly, one of his eyes opened.

"I think I've been shot." The tall man wheezed, yelping as he tried to sit up. "No, I've definitely been shot." Despite his inability to move, his head still swiveled towards the sound of Marianne's voice. "Marianne? Marianne!" His panic grew by the second, as the only thing he could hear coming from her was furious screaming.

"I hope you have security cameras in this place." Sunny remarked, pulling out his phone to dial up emergency services. "Because what Marianne's doing to Roland right now? You're gonna be showing that to your  _grandkids_  someday."

Meanwhile, on the other side of the bar, Dawn was trying desperately to pull her sister off of the unconscious man before she actually  _did_  kill him. It was fairly hard, as Marianne was quite a bit stronger than she was. She also found herself unable to stop crying.

"He's alive he's alive he's alive." She kept repeating, finally getting Marianne in a headlock and pulling her backwards, away from Roland. "Bog's alive he's alive, Bog's alive."

Marianne froze in her sister's arms. "He-"

"Roland shot him in the shoulder." Sunny called, head popping up over the bar. "He's bleeding really bad, but I called an ambulance. And the cops."

With a final kick at Roland, Marianne stood, scrambling onto the bar. "Bog?"  Sunny had grabbed a few clean spill towels to press against the wound, and while Bog had his eyes squeezed shut against the pain, he was still able to answer her.

"Still here, love." He gasped, knuckles white against his dark pants. "Didn't, didn't think you could lose me  _that_  easily, did you?"

She covered her mouth with her hand to muffle her gasping sobs, finally scrambling the rest of the way over the bar, to take over compression from Sunny.

"Go to Dawn." She ordered, though the effect was marred somewhat by the tightness of her voice. "Make sure no one else touched that gun. If Roland wakes up before the police get here, you put him under again. Mettilda!" The woman jumped, then dropped her hands. "Security camera footage. Go get it." She leaned away from Bog, raising her voice. "And anyone that hasn't already left, and doesn't mind talking to the police, please prepare a statement."

Only five people had stayed, but they were regulars. Their statements, and the security footage, should be enough to make sure Roland never bothered them again. Marianne sighed, pressing her forehead against Bog's.

"Want a shot for the road, or do ambulances come equipped with morphine, you think?" He groaned.

"Just knock me out, I can take an extra lump to go with the hole." She snorted, kissing his nose.

"I'll do no such thing, you big baby." The front door crashed open as the EMTs finally made it onto the scene. They beat the police by a whole minute, having time to get behind the bar to see to Bog before several officers rushed in.

She hated to leave him, but Dawn was hysterical and Mettilda was still shocked into silence. Someone needed to give a coherent statement, and she was the only one that could. After taking her statement, collecting the gun and the security footage, and putting a groggy Roland in handcuffs, the police finally left, allowing her to get back to the more important matter at hand.

Bog had been making a fuss about getting on the gurney, complaining that he wouldn't fit, no matter how many times the EMTs insisted that it could be made longer.

"I'll just sit up in the cab with you, it'll be no trouble at all."

Marianne and the female EMT exchanged a look. The blood loss was starting to get to him. "Sir, I'm really gonna have to insist you let us put you on the gurney. You can't stand." He protested again, and Marianne cleared her throat.

"Bog, let them put you on the damn gurney so they can take you to the hospital and  _pull the bullet out of you_." His mouth clicked shut.

"Ah. Alright then." She smiled at him, then helped the EMTs load him up. They were both large people, but Bog was still heads taller than them.

"Thank you for responding so quickly." She said, climbing into the ambulance with them. The man stopped her.

"Look, I'm sorry about this, but unless you're family-" He began, but was interrupted by Bog.

"She's my wife!" He yelled, then winced as the gurney jostled his shoulder. The man let her pass, apologizing. She waved him away, taking Bog's uninjured hand in hers.

"You're going to be alright." She assured him, squeezing his hand as the vehicle started up. "Metty's gonna close the bar, and she'll drive Dawn and Sunny over. And probably call your mom."

She didn't think it was possible, but his face went paler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotcha!


	14. Chapter 14

If he had to choose between being shot again and having to relive the scene his mother made when she arrived at the hospital, Bog would have begged for the bullet.

Griselda had been too frazzled to drive, so she'd taken a taxi. She and Plum met each other in the entryway, and almost had to be escorted out by security, such a ruckus they made.

By the time his family made it in, he'd already had the bullet removed, and his entire left side was bandaged up, arm in a sling.

"Frankly, this feels like overkill. The bullet didn't even hit bone." He'd remarked to Marianne, seconds before his weeping mother had all but smothered him. She bumped his shoulder so many times over the next few minutes, if it hadn't been for the liberal dosing of morphine, he would have passed out.

"Griselda, I'm gonna get up so you can take my chair." Marianne had said gently, pulling her away from the constantly wincing man. "Bog's going to be okay, but he's still pretty beat up, and you're not actually helping."

There was a fair amount of complaining, but within the hour, the woman was dozing in the chair next to her son's bed. Marianne had taken up residence in the bed with Bog, curled up to his uninjured side. For his part, Bog was fairly out of it from the pain and the medicine. He kept paying her random compliments, and stroking her back. She was still tense, partly convinced that she'd passed out at the bar, and that he was actually dead. 

It would be the wee hours of the morning before she calmed down enough to sag against him, exhausted.

"You should sleep, some." Bog whispered, his eyes still fixed on the small television. The nurse had turned it on shortly after she hooked him up to his morphine, and they'd been half-watching a Monk marathon ever since. The drug numbed him, but made it almost impossible for him to feel tired.

Marianne yawned, propping herself up on her elbow. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. Think they'll get mad if I just do it here?" He distantly felt himself grinning, and pulled her as close as he could.

"You say that like you think I'll let you leave." Marianne smiled back, resting her cheek on his chest.

"Good. Say, just wondering, but how much do you remember? From back at the bar?"

Sunny had filled him in on what Marianne had done to Roland, and he certainly remembered  _being_  shot, as well as the events that proceeded it, but a lot of the things that happened while he was bleeding out were a blur. Though, he  _could_  recall the ambulance ride.

"I assume you're talking about why you were allowed to ride with me." He murmured, trying hard to keep his voice down. This was one conversation he  _really_  didn't want his mother to get involved in.

"Mm, it was a real quick-thinking lie. I was impressed."

He knew they shouldn't be talking about this while he was drugged, with his mother feet away.  _He_  knew it, and his common sense knew it, but try telling that to his mouth.

"It doesn't have to be a lie."


	15. Chapter 15

Her body stiffened and slowly, she looked up at him. "Come again?" Bog took a deep breath.

"What I said in the ambulance, it doesn't have to be a lie."

He couldn't do it now. Not here. Not like this. Not with all the different plans and scenarios he'd imagined. After a long ride on his bike together. At the bar, with a song. In a drink. In a bouquet. Anywhere and anywhen but here and now.

"Bog." Marianne said gently, running her fingers along the planes of his face. "No." It was his turn to freeze, and she laughed quietly. "Not here, not with you laid up like this." He relaxed. She wasn't saying  _not ever_ , just  _not now_.

"You're absolutely right." Bog said with a yawn, exhaustion finally hitting him. "Forget I even said anything." 

He fell asleep soon after, but now Marianne found herself wide awake.

She'd been engaged before, after a considerably shorter courtship. The experience had left her cold, distant. Closed off to love. But Roland had been a jerk. When she examined his behavior later, no longer clouded by her feelings for him, she'd found him to be sorely lacking. Roland never listened to her. Tried to control her. Limited the time she spent around her family and friends. He was downright abusive, in fact, even if he never raised a hand to her.

But Bog was so, so very different. 

Her opinions mattered to him.He could listen to her talk for ages, and not a day went by that they didn't have long discussions about things they found important. He gave her all the space she wanted, and never pushed if she told him that he couldn't stay over that night. He loved her unconditionally exactly the way she was, and never expected her to change to fit his ideal.

When it came to people to be stuck with, in sickness and in health, 'til death do they part, she could think of worse.

"Not now." She whispered, leaning up to kiss his cheek, then settling back against his side. "But definitely soon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting close to wrapping this thing up, so I'm dragging it out with shorter chapters? Is it because I subconsciously hate myself, or because posting things twice a day feels so nice?


	16. Chapter 16

He was in the hospital for a grand total of five days.

In that time, Roland's arresting officers visited him for a statement, as he'd been a bit too out of it to talk to them the night of.

"He's off, that one. Been harassing my girlfriend longer than we've been together." He lowered his voice as Marianne peeked in through the door's small window. "She break anything on him?"

"Concussion, broken nose, bruises on his larynx, two impacted ribs, and a hell of a shiner." The larger of the two officers, a mountain of a man named Brutus, said with a grin. "He was actually down the hall until yesterday. Your girl ever consider doing MMA?"

Griselda and Marianne barely left his side unless forced, and while their constant hovering was a little irritating, the fact that they cared so much made him happy.

The bullet hadn't gone straight through, but it also hadn't hit bone, merely tearing through muscle. After stitching him up, his doctors had informed Marianne that his shoulder would become stiff if he didn't move it enough, but there were plenty of less than strenuous exercises he could do to build the strength back up. Bog's first concern had been the bar.

"It's not even my dominant arm!" He'd protested, when he'd been told that he had to wait for the stitches to come out before he could go back to work. "Send in an orderly. If I can beat them in arm wrestling, you give me a pass."

In the end, Bog was banned from Dark Forest for an entire month.

It wasn't a total loss, as he got to spend more time with Marianne; helping her with her deliveries, and teaching her how to ride his bike. He and Mettilda finally orchestrated a formal sit down for their mothers, which began with shouted accusations, and ended with three empty bottles of wine and fond recollections of the time Plum had mooned David Bowie while they were on vacation, scant days before Griselda had met her husband.

As his stitches finally came out, Bog tried to remember a time he'd been happier, or more at peace, and found he couldn't think of one. His family was together again, and Marianne had been hinting about him moving in with her. 

The time was finally right.

* * *

 

His first week back had been uneventful. Regulars that didn't have any of his contact information expressed their joy at his return, but everyone important to him hadn't actually left him alone while he was gone. Marianne had been filling in for him on nights that Mettilda couldn't handle on her own, and Bog found little touches of her all throughout the area behind the counter. Specifically, everything had been moved down a row or two, because neither she nor his cousin broke 5'8". Sometimes he wondered what it would be like, having other tall people around. His neck would certainly cramp less.

The rhythm of the various days was the same as usual. Monday and Tuesday were slow, Wednesday picked up a notch, Thursday he was off, and Friday was busy.

And then it was Saturday.

After spending the better part of the morning completely unconscious in Marianne's bed, Bog woke to find a note stapled to his boxers.

_Bog,_

_Dad needs me to drive an order to a wedding a couple of towns over. Shouldn't be too long, but if I am, I'll meet you at DF later. Love you!_

_M_

He smiled as he gently pulled the staple out of his waistband. He'd been so bad about missing sticky notes meant for him, she'd just started attaching them to him one day. The shirts he left at her place were full of tiny holes because of it, but he couldn't be upset. The notes were more personal than just texting him, her familiar, sloping handwriting a comfort whenever he woke up without her.

After a shower and some breakfast, Bog dressed and headed out into town. Today was an important day, and he needed to pick up a few things.

When he walked into Dark Forest at five, Marianne was nowhere to be seen. The crowds began to roll in around seven, and still no Marianne. Eight o'clock, and Dawn and Sunny finally showed up. By this point, he'd been trying her phone for hours, and Bog was halfway to frantic.

"Where's Marianne?" He demanded, as soon as they were in range. The two exchanged a glance, and Dawn frowned.

"She's here? Isn't she? I just talked to her like, twenty minutes ago. She'd stopped home to change, and told us not to bother picking her up." She looked around, but there wasn't any sign of her sister. "Oh no. I have to make a call."

With a squeeze to Sunny's shoulder, Dawn dashed off as fast as her heels would let her. Bog looked at him, raising a brow. "Any idea-"

"Hey, I'm just the boyfriend." He said with a shrug, a small grin on his face. Saying that still tickled him. "If something's going on with her and Marianne, it's gonna  _stay_  between them." Bog crossed his arms, leaning against the shelves. Something was definitely wrong.

* * *

 

"I can't do this." Marianne gasped, balling her fists in the material of her dress. Dawn fetched her a bottle of emergency water from the trunk of her car. "I don't know why I thought this was a good idea. I mean, could you even imagine-" She gestured at herself, then at the bar, letting out a tearless, hiccuping sob. Dawn sighed, smoothing some of Marianne's flyaway hair back into place.

"If I could do it, you can too." She said softly. "And yeah, at first, it's terrifying, but then you realize that the worst thing that can happen is that he'll say no." But Sunny hadn't, and anyone could see how gone Bog was on her sister, so she doubted he would, either.

Marianne nodded, draining the rest of the water bottle. She took a few extra minutes to compose herself, thanking the heavens above for the existence of waterproof makeup, then got out of her car.

"Okay. Okay! Let's do this."

* * *

 

When Marianne walked into the bar, any fear and irritation he'd been feeling melted into an overwhelming sense of relief.

She hadn't crashed her van, or been abducted by Roland, or any of the million other scenarios that had been rolling around in his brain. She was okay.

"Sorry I'm late, there was this...thing. But I'm cool now." Her smile was a little nervous, and he frowned.

"Marianne?" She hopped up onto the closest stool, kissing him across the bar.

"I'm okay. Are you okay? Because I'm okay." 

She was  _not_  okay. She was positively jittering with nerves, and anyone could see it. "Can I get you anything?" Marianne shook her head, eyes darting to the stage, where Dawn was waiting for the person singing to finish.

"No, no. I'm driving tonight. So! How was your day?" Bog raised a brow, but let it drop. He told her about running errands, though he left a stop off his list. She was calming down, laughing with him, joking with Sunny. And then Dawn got on stage.

"Marianne!" She called, punching in some numbers. Marianne froze, nearly dropping her glass. Too soon, too soon. There were too many people. She needed more  _time_.

The music started. 

"Bog, there's something I need to ask you." She said in a rush, then took a deep breath. "Love me or leave me, make your choice but believe me, I love you! I do, I do, I do, I do, I do!"

He jolted back, his body understanding what was going on before his mind really caught up. She was...was she actually?

"Oh, I've been dreamin' through my lonely past. Now I just made it, I found you at last! So come on, now let's try it. I love you, can't deny it. 'Cause it's true, I do, I do, I do, I do, I do!"

The music continued to play, but she wasn't singing along anymore. With a gulp of Sunny's drink and a nervous smile, she dug into the pocket of her dress.

"I wasn't delivering flowers all this time." She confessed, pulling out a yellowed envelope. "About an hour of my day was spent with your mom." Out of the envelope came a ring. The last time he'd seen it had been before his father's cremation. He'd thought it lost forever, but apparently, his mother had kept it. He stepped towards her, reaching into his own pocket.

"While you were out, I went to see your father." He said softly, opening his hand to reveal a ring of his own. Marianne gasped, as did Dawn, who'd hopped away from the stage while everyone was paying attention to her sister.

"Mom's ring!" She cried, then looked up at Bog. "Wait, hold on. Are you kidding me?" Marianne and Bog were having a quiet staredown, biting their lips to hold back their laughter. "You two  _randomly decided_ to pop the question  _on the same day_?!" That did it.

They all but collapsed against the bar in unison, tears of mirth streaming down their faces.

"You beat me to the punch again!" Bog howled, banging his fist on the countertop. Marianne was hanging onto Sunny to keep upright, laughing so hard she'd started to cough. Dawn crossed her arms, heaving out a sigh.

"Oh my god, will one of you idiots just  _do it_  already?!"

Bog calmed himself first, crossing the bar and kneeling in front of the stool Sunny had dropped her on as he made his escape. Marianne's laughter died in her throat as he took her hand.

"Marianne, you came into my life in the strangest way, and I've spent every day since unspeakably glad to have met you. Life with you is...well, it's strange. And different. And sometimes hazardous to my health." He rolled his shoulder, and she snorted. "But it's also wonderful. I can't imagine my life without you in it, and I do believe you feel the same way. So!" He grinned up at her, squeezing her fingers. "What do you say, Fairwood? Marry me?"

She couldn't speak, lips pressed tightly together to keep herself from crying, so she just nodded, launching herself off the stood and into his arms. She eased off when he yelped, dropping a kiss on his sore shoulder and pressing his father's ring into his hand.

"I can't believe you were going to propose to me with ABBA." Bog remarked as he slipped it on, wincing when she pinched his ear.

"Yeah, well I couldn't use Bruno Mars, someone else called dibs." Luckily, Dawn had been out of earshot, and completely missed the embarrassed look Sunny shot at her sister. "And you! You went and talked to dad? How'd you get mom's ring?"

"It was a hard sell, I won't lie." He sighed as they got back to their feet. "He still doesn't like me, entirely. But he knows you do, so." A sudden commotion near the door caused them all to wince.

Since their reconciliation, Plum and Griselda had been trying their damnedest to make up for all the lost time, and it looked like their party train had finally reached its home station.

"Oh my  _god_  we missed it!" Plum shrilled, practically dragging her sister up to the bar. "But at least we've got the security footage! Bog, don't you go back behind that bar. Move over, Metty! Designated drivers, you keep your stamps up. The rest, free Love Potions for everyone! My nephew's gettin' hitched!"

As the high-strung woman busied herself with the drinks she'd promised, Bog looked down at his mother, who was far more subdued than he'd expected. "Mom? Are you okay?" She just nodded, sniffling.

"It used to make me so mad, how you refused to go out and meet girls. But now I see you were just waiting for the perfect one." She opened her arms to the taller woman. "Welcome to the family, Marianne." With a smile, Marianne ducked down to hug her new mother in-law.

The rest of the night was a bit of a blur. Her dad had showed up shortly after Plum and Griselda, and he and Bog had disappeared for a little while. The taller man looked slightly pale when he came back. There was plenty of hugging and congratulations, and at one point, Marianne found herself on top of the bar with Dawn and Mettilda, dancing and singing along to the Michael Franti song Sunny'd punched up. And then the next morning, when she woke up safe in her own bed, cocooned safely in a nest of blankets and Bog's arms, Marianne couldn't help but smile.

There was a time, not so long ago, where she couldn't have imagined being in love, let along being engaged again. Being happy. But she  _was_  all those things, and more.

It was the start of a new day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs referenced this chapter:
> 
> I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do- ABBA  
> Marry You- Bruno Mars  
> Say Hey (I Love You)- Michael Franti


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those who've been here from the start, thanks for following this weird adventure. For those who've come later, thank you for choosing to read the whole thing through.
> 
> I hope y'all enjoyed my excuse to throw music references into things.

"You have too much stuff."

Their family and friends had already left, having fulfilled their promises to help Bog pack his things in Marianne's work van, and bring the boxes up to her apartment. Their apartment. But the couple wanted to be the ones to actually make everything fit, which was proving to be more of a challenge than expected.

Bog looked up from the box of records he'd been unpacking. Marianne didn't actually have a method when it came to her own music collection. CDs, cassettes, and records were separated, but aside from that, it was chaos. She was currently laying on a small line of boxes that held his clothes, hand draped over her eyes.

"No dear,  _we_  have too much stuff." Marianne snorted, rolling off the boxes and onto the couch behind them.

"No idea what you're talking about. I've got a perfectly reasonable amount of stuff, you're the one that's gone overboard with the stuff." Bog cast his eyes around the room, pointing out things he'd never seen her touch, and she groaned. "Okay, maybe I have one or two things that can go into storage, but you've got like ten boxes of clothes, here!  _I_  don't even have that many clothes!"

He went red.

"Marianne, you could pack your entire wardrobe into three boxes because your clothes are, ah,  _smaller_  than mine." As if to emphasize, he sliced open a box and pulled out a pair of pants. It had been folded four times, and was still bigger than her largest sweater. Marianne peeked over the boxes guiltily. Her work schedule had been too hectic for her to go over and help him pack up his room, and so she didn't know what was  _in_  half the boxes she was complaining about.

"Sorry." She mumbled, climbing over the back of the couch to avoid the boxes, then settling down in his lap. "I've just had my own space for so long, this sudden influx of  _stuff_  that's not mine was freaking me out." She peeked into the box next to him, lighting up. His mother had allowed him to take some of his father's record collection with him, and sure it mostly looked like music she already knew, but it would still be fun hearing it on vinyl for the first time. "Wanna put on a record?"

Bog smiled down at her, tilting the box her way. "Close your eyes and pull something out. Let the fates decide."

Squeezing her eyes shut, Marianne let her fingers skim along the tops of the records, flicking through them first one way, then back. Finally, she snagged one, and laughed once she opened her eyes. "Sunshine Superman! I remember that song! This isn't the record with Mellow Yellow on it, right?" She flipped it over, reading the track listings. "Nope, just Season of the Witch. Hey, this Donovan guy's Scottish too, right?"

"Well, these  _are_  da's records. He was still a lad living in Scotland in the 60s. Didn't even leave the country until he met my mother." Bog always sounded sad whenever he talked about his father. Marianne reached out for his hand, squeezing it.

"I would have loved to meet him." His smile was thin, sad.

"He would have loved you. Think your mom would have approved of me?" Marianne made a face.

"Are you kidding? You're basically her dream man for me. Tall, a music lover, actually a dork under all those layers of grump...hey!" He brought both hands up to her head, mussing up her hair until it stood on end.

Abandoning the record on the top of the box, they wrestled around on the floor, laughing and sneaking kisses until Marianne finally pinned him. Sort of. Alright, she didn't  _actually_  pin him, she was just over half his weight, after all. But she felt nice settled on top of him, and they'd both spent the day dragging boxes around. This was a fight he was willing to throw, if it meant keeping her this close.

"We're still gonna have to put some stuff in storage." She murmured, face pressed into his neck. Bog snorted.

"All I beg is that you leave my records and my books be. I'll concede the rest, but those stay." Marianne whistled softly, plucking at his shirt.

"Oh nice, I've always wanted to have a hot naked guy that can't leave the house." He laughed out loud this time, swatting her rear. "Ow! Okay, okay, the clothes stay too. And the guitar, if you promise to play for me."

Bog wrapped his arms around her, feeling her breathing slow. They were tired, and if they weren't careful, would probably end up falling asleep like this. "Any time you wish." His mouth twitched upwards. "I love you, Marianne."

She shifted several times, wiggling until she was comfortable. He could feel her mouth move against his neck, better than he heard her words.

"I love you too, Bog. Don't let us sleep here."

Chuckling to himself, Bog carefully sat up, moving Marianne until she was safely cradled in his arms. She yawned up at him, examining her position. "What, so I'm a princess now?"

Bog stood, walking her to their bedroom, turning off lights as he went. "Indeed you are. My pretty fairy princess." Marianne groaned, her head dropping forward onto her chest. Dawn had shown him some of their old family albums last time she was over, and he still hadn't let her old Halloween costumes go.

Despite everything, she still found that she was too tired to protest when he set her down in their bed, pulling off her shoes. He shucked off his own boots, climbing in as well, and she immediately rolled to him.

"Hey." She said, sleepy eyes bright in the darkness. "Welcome home."

Welcome home. Home, a semi-cramped apartment full of music and books and dried flowers, and a few too many windows for his liking. Home, where he was a smidge too tall to properly fit in the shower, and bumped his head on the kitchen doorway if he wasn't paying attention. Home, where their parents' wedding portraits sat on the shelf above the TV, a gap in the middle waiting for theirs.

Pulling her close, Bog smiled into their kisses. Welcome home, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs referenced this chapter:
> 
> Sunshine Superman/Mellow Yellow/Season of the Witch- Donovan


End file.
